


Tell Them

by tisfan



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Minor Character Death, Ouija, Spirits, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: When Stephen dismisses an Ouija Board as being childish...





	Tell Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



> this story contains possibly upsetting elements about the death of a child

 

“Tony, that’s trash,” Stephen Strange said, wrinkling his nose in that fastidious manner of his. Not that Tony really blamed him for that. Cleaning out the attic was bad enough, cleaning out the attic of Stark Mansion was another kettle of fish entirely. No one had been in there in decades -- Tony remembered hiding there once when Howard had been mad about the level of whiskey left in his desk side decanter and decided that Tony had drunk it.

(To be honest, Tony might have drunk some of it, he couldn’t remember anymore.)

But Jarvis had, dutifully until his death, put everything he thought the young master might want someday.

And now that Tony was moving to the Avenger’s Compound -- where technically Stephen would be living, too -- he thought, perhaps, he should go through some of the junk and see if any of it was worth keeping.

He wasn’t sure why. Tony had been called a lot of things, but nostalgic usually wasn’t one of them.  

“No, no, it’s not,” Tony protested, staring at the contents of the box. Along with myriad MIT souvenirs and reminders and some of his old textbooks, and photos (mostly of him and Rhodey and their vast number of experiments) was a parchment pale piece of wood. The alphabet, numbers, _sun_ , _moon_ , and _goodbye_ were written on it in ink, along with a little felt-footed placard. “Rhodey gave it to me. Come on, you know you want to try it.”

“I absolutely do not want to try it,” Stephen said. “There is no magic in these things.”

“It’s not supposed to be magic,” Tony droned, doing his best sonorous Stephen voice. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“This is a childish game, Tony,” Stephen said, “one played by drunken high school girls who have been hitting Mommy’s cooking sherry at slumber parties.”

“I never thought the board itself was supposed to be magic,” Tony said. “I thought it was supposed to be a means by which a ghost could be able to speak to us.” Rhodey had, in fact, given it to him because Tony was a little shit in college and constantly mocked other people’s lucky items and superstitions. It had taken him a long time to realize that people made their own luck (usually with a lot of hard work behind it) and that people invested a lot of time and emotional energy into their luck, and if it made them feel better to have a talisman for it, who was Tony to say that they shouldn’t?

Everyone got to the answers (or didn’t) on their own.

In fact, the whole box was full of other things like that, the lucky rabbit’s foot, and the magic eight ball. All the sort of things that Tony scoffed at when he was the ripe old age of fifteen. Rhodey mocked him for his mockery, and they went around that block a few times before Tony learned to shut up and leave well enough alone. (It was a lesson he was still learning from time to time, to be quite fair.)

“If you want to speak to a ghost, Tony, that can be arranged. And not in this manner. I have contacts in the realms of the dead.”

Tony shuddered. “No, thanks, though.” He’d seen enough of Stephen’s magic to say honestly that it was real, and also honestly to say that it still made him nervous. And further, while there were some people who had died that he’d like to talk to again (Jarvis, Ana, Aunt Peggy) there were other dead that he’d prefer remained wherever they were. Leave it to Howard to elbow his way through throngs of dead just to be able to tell Tony how disappointing he was. “Come on, though, just try it.”

“If I agree to this, can we go eat, after?”

“If you still have the appetite for mortal food, after speaking with the dead,” Tony said, pretending to be Vincent Price.

Stephen’s eyebrows were incredibly expressive, Tony decided. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Stephen’s downturned lips.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” Tony repeated.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Stephen finally relented.

They balanced the board on their knees, the placard in the center. Tony placed just the tips of his fingers on it. Stephen did the same, and instantly, Tony could feel the shivers running through the board. That was probably the result of Stephen’s constant hand tremors, but Tony had to admit, it made for a spooky atmosphere.

“Spirits,” Tony said, “speak to us.”

“And soon, because I might commit murder for a cheeseburger,” Stephen added.

“Ignore him,” Tony said.

The placard jerked suddenly, hard.

**YES**

“Tony, stop that,” Stephen chided.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tony said. “Yes? Yes what, ignore Stephen?”

Zig, zag.

**YES**

“Ignore you, smart ghost.”

“I sense nothing.” Stephen rolled his eyes.

The placard shifted again. Tony recalled from his times in college that there had usually been more than two people, and one had been writing down the messages from _beyond the grave_. On the plus side, Tony’s memory was good enough, they didn’t need that. But suddenly he wondered if having one person not touching the board would have been a good idea.

Y-O-U D-O-N-T S-E-E E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G D-O-C-T-O-R

“What’s your name, then, spirit?” Stephen said. Tony wasn’t sure if Stephen was getting into the role playing, or if he really thought there was one, or if Tony was supposed--

Zig, zag.

K-A-R-A

“Hello, Kara,” Tony said. The placard went still. Even Stephen’s shivering fingers had stopped shaking the board.

H-E-L-L-O T-O-N-Y

“What made you come to visit us today?”

R-U-D-E

“It’s rude to ask?”

D-O-C-T-O-R I-S R-U-D-E

“Well, she’s kinda got you there, Stephen,” Tony said. “You can be pretty rude. Shame on you.”

D-O-C-T-O-R M-A-K-E-S F-U-N

I D-I-E-D

“Well, of course you did,” Stephen said. “I don’t think we’d be having this conversation if you didn’t.”

M-E-A-N

S-L-E-E-P-O-V-E-R-S A-R-E S-U-P-P-O-S-E-D T-O B-E F-U-N

A-N-D I D-I-E-D

D-O-N-T M-A-K-E F-U-N

B-U-L-L-Y

Stephen blinked.

“I don’t think she likes you very much,” Tony said.

“Tony, stop this at once, there is nothing here.”

**Yes**

I A-M H-E-R-E

“Kara begs to differ,” Tony said.

Stephen stood up, knocking the board aside with a sweep of his hand.

The board landed letter side up, the placard to the other side. Tony held his hands up, surrendering. “Sorry, Stephen, it was--”

The placard flew over to the board, like a needle to a magnet.

I A-M H-E-R-E

I D-I-E-D

T-E-L-L T-H-E-M

T-E-L-L T-H-E-M I-T W-A-S-N-T A-N-Y-O-N-E-S F-A-U-L-T

T-E-L-L M-E-G-A-N I M-I-S-S H-E-R

T-E-L-L T-H-E-M

T-E-L-L T-H-E-M

T-E-L-L T-H-E-M

**Goodbye**

***

“This has got to be it,” Tony said. He flicked the article in question over to Stephen’s device. “Kara Ellis, died at age fourteen at a slumber party. Four girls, they all went to sleep in a tent in the backyard, and at three-fifteen, she was found unresponsive.”

“And Megan?” Stephen asked.

“Megan Walters. Her best friend, the girl who discovered Kara wasn’t breathing. She’s nineteen now.”

“Do you think we should tell her?”

“Would you want to know?”

Stephen nodded. “I guess we’re going to Delaware.”

**fin**

  
  



End file.
